“Forget it,” said he; “in the name of God, forget it. I'm trying to live honest, and I'm going to let you and your friends alone if you'll let me alone. Now, that's a fair bargain.”
I hesitated, wondering at his sensitiveness.
“You owe us quite a balance, but I'm inclined to call it a bargain,” I said. “Only be kind to that hat and coat; they are old friends of mine. I don't care so much about the two hundred dollars.”
“Thanks,” he answered with a laugh, and went on: “I've given you proper credit on the books. You'll hear from me as soon as I am on my feet.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He answered: “Ever since I was a kid I've wanted to see the Colosseum where men fought with lions.”
“I am sure that you would enjoy a look at Hadrian's Walk,” I said, pointing to the tourists who had halted there as I turned away.
So we parted, and with a sense of good luck I hurried to Norris.
“I've got a crick in my back,” I said. “Let's get out of here.”
We proceeded to our motor-car at the entrance.